Anarchy
by Parapluie Lire
Summary: While the seven complete their quest, two camps are thrown into war. Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter rage war despite all efforts to delay. Without a common flag to rally under will the world fall to Gaea? (Takes place during House of Hades and Blood of Olympus)
1. Emergence

**A/N: This is a side experiment of mine. On top of my collection of one shots, Stagnant, this new fic will hopefully have updates ever other week. Thank you Pierce the Veil for being an amazing beta. **

**Enjoy**

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Last night I think I drank too much

Call it our temporary crutch

With broken words I tried to say

Honey don't you be afraid

If we got nothing we got us

OneRepublic~Something I Need

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REYNA

**Wind ruffled her hair.** **For once** in a very long time, it flowed free from it's usual braid. In a simple worn night shirt she stood on a hill. Lit up in the night was New Rome. Proud and tall, with lamps lining the wide streets New Rome was a beacon of hope. The jewel among stones, to be protected at all cost.

A beautiful sight no doubt, but Reyna was in no mood to enjoy the view. The blasé feeling was becoming a habit. Her ability to disregard the beauty and wonder scared her. Wanting more than anything to just take a moment to enjoy the little things. To allow pride to swell in her chest every time she glazed over the formable city. That awestruck wonder had however, was faded.

Reyna dared.

Knowing full well that she was gambling when she took up the part of leader with Jason. Fully aware she would be doing both shares of paperwork. Though a year ago that didn't seem to mattar. They were both capable leaders, the perfect team eager for power.

Wrapping her arms tighter around herself, shivering she wished upon a shooting star. Wishing to fall sick right there and then.

It was a foolish and petty hope. A silly western superstition and besides, no illness, not even fatal could ever keep her away from war. It was programmed in her genes. Woven into her subconsience One day she would arrive in battle, blood soaked and aged and it would finally be her last. Tis the fate of all descendants of war. Conflict created and fueled their existence. Obviously it could and would be the only thing able to end them.

Blind anger had ruled her for days before she finally got perspective. The fury would never relent, but there were more important things at hand. At least her head was clear. Locking the anguish in a box and throwing way the key, she sighed.

Knowing well it would fester. But for now, it was out of sight and out of mind. A trick she had learned before she had even known she was a demigod. A trick that couldn't have been more helpful, with everything becoming more dire each day.

Before, Reyna would have had a laugh at her current position. A daughter of war afraid of war? What would be more stupidly ironic? But now, when it was her being the one experiencing the dread, it was so much more real and not quite as stupid.

Drawing a quick breath she tried to calm herself. Unreasonable she was not and _no one_ would ever dare calling the Praetor of The Twelfth Legion that. With weighed arms she slowly breathed out.

If it were colder there would have been tendrils of smoke trailing from her moth. Disappearing out into the sky. Smoke that she could in envision rising from the Greek camp. It would not be an uncommon sight, it would probably look just like the demolished ruins at the end of war games. For it was not the task to be achieved that Reyna feared. No, they could easily over power the Graceus people.

Growling, the Greeks were stated in the prophecy to help them defeat Terra. Eliminating them there was could lead to doom. And then came Jason…

The failed Praetor, running away and abandoning blood, his family. Reyna just wanted to cut him out of her life. It had been a while now that Reyna had properly spoken to him: eight months, about to turn into nine. Almost a year, before the thought brought anxious waiting but now she didn't know what to think.

Four years of fighting back to back, four years of victory, four years of snickering and sharing secrets. Admitting fears and sharing burdens like all best friends did and despite all that, he still betrayed her. Betraying them _all_ run off with a new girl and completely replaced her.

Reyna wouldn't dare admit it, but she missed him. Shouldering a two person job alone she was tearing herself apart.

Barricading herself in her own mind, the girl was trying to make sense of gibberish. At the same time she hated him with a burning passion that would raze Rome. He had abandoned her and when he finally returned, he refused to take up his duties, what kind of leader did that? Not a Roman one Reyna knew for sure. They had one short conversation that she refused to count as speaking. It had been all one sided. More alerting than conversing.

Telling her that she would have to look elsewhere for a replacement. And to top it all off, the idiot Vulcan boy had dared to fire on their city! The damage had been easily repaired, but never the less it was an unforgivable action. Mistake or not it, was, by all means, a declaration of war.

Personally, Reyna had run scenarios in her head, and there were only so many ways that one could 'by mistake' knock out Octavian. The Argur who seemed to be forever on the edge and hit the switches to load and aim the missile.

Bare, frugal, hopeless. They were all fantastic synonyms for her current situation. She was just clinging to her position as Praetor. Like a wounded wolf she had been cornered, back to back with a wall almost suffocating. Swindled into submission. It must be said, Octavian with his supporters and was a worthy adversary.

Reyna didn't blame anyone for taking Octavian's side. The thirst for war was alluring, she herself had fallen prey to it only a year ago. Eager to fight for her home. Proving her worth and loyalty on the field. Applying theory and practice to the real thing. What could have been better?

The Greeks had made the first move, Octavian argued and his words rang true. The Senate listened to this as she watched with steely eyes. He had gained much from the attack. His prophecy was coming true. So thus with a heavy heart and badges pinned to her breast pocket, She walked along the winding path.

Knuckles white, she wanted to torch the Greeks herself. Hurt them all with a swing of her gladeus. Make them feel the pain they were putting her through. For once in her life: become Octavian. Able to destroy and conquer without having the restrictions of morals.

It stretched on for miles, but she didn't care. She welcomed the time. It was the precious seconds and minutes of peace until war. As the daughter of war, it was considered her responsibility. Possibly one of the Mars children could have done it, but Octavian with his clever words wove a net. Ensnaring her and adding one more burden to her load. Possibly the heaviest of all…

Titles were what people would remember you by. Reyna held a spear in hand- Who walks around with a spear and pajamas?Fuzzy purple slippers on her feet as she trekked down the pathway. She would now be the bringer of death. The one disregarding all intentions, to truly bring war. it was easy to imagine Octavian laughing at her hesitation.

It was shaming. She had been trapped and pressured. The myriad of things that she wanted to prevent were unfolding in front of her. War would be created by her hands whether she liked it or not. Her every step was a staggering blow as she neared one of the most frequented temples.

Poetic in a horrific and haunting view.

Though that was the story of life, someone too young caught up in something too big. Shoved and spit on, kicked and beat, tragedy at its best. The question was though, if that someone could surpass all those trials. And this time, after years of doing just that, out smarting fate and narrowly dogging arrows from the swiftest of bows Reyna wondered for the hundredth time if this was her moment. Where she would finally be matched. If this time reality would hit the ball home.

Allowing in the cruelest of ways for her to do it all herself. Ruin for once her own life. Why not? She had already dig herself a pit. Why didn't she just do fate a favor and do the deed, drown, free fall into its icy clutches. Unable to overcome, trapped beneath the ice, sinking. A victory among millions mounted to a wall of all the people, who like her were unable to out run life.

Her Head, though was still secured tightly on her shoulders. It wasn't wasn't mounted yet and Reyna planned to run as far as she could before the inevitable. Hope, she didn't have and when has Tyche ever been on her side? Reyna knew impossible situations well, and she knew that only the strongest survived in a wolf pack.

She didn't have luck or hope but she had herself and honestly, when has she ever needed anything else.

Behold Bellona, a tall regal statue sat proud next to the entrance. An offering bowl to its right. Unlike other tributaries Bellona's had an out door offering place as well as indoor. Jupiter and Mars too had such being one of the more used temples.

_When water rushes at a dam the dam must hold strong and meet the brute head on. But one day, there will be too much water, all trying to break free and that dam will break. Liquid pouring through its cracks. It starts off quiet. Small doubts that grow and fester…_

"Why?" she whispered.

_Progressing and there's a steady line of water streaming forth, starting to pool…_

"Why me? Why now? Rome isn't ready! I'm not ready!" Reyna asked, louder this time.

_The concrete splits, ready to crumble…_

"Why?!"

_Then for a moment everything is placid though you know deep down that it's only a matter of time. The calm before a storm. And then it bursts through…_

"I-I-I did ev-everything r-right-t-t! I d-don't deserve this!"

_It flows uncharted over towns and valleys. It wreaks havoc and destroys..._

Reyna dug her heels into the ground, stamping trying to stay upright. But like a dam, she came crumbling down. Screaming to the world who wouldn't even blink an eye, punching a statue. A good proper punch. One that would make even the most thick headed man fall. That's not how it happened. There were only bloody knuckles, and a lack of a dent left. Nothing to even show she had even laid a finger on it. There should be though. A nice, Reyna-fist sized hole blemishing the seemingly perfect goddess.

"I hate it, I hate you! I hate you!"

_One day soon the water will collect into the earth and evaporate. As things go up, they must come down. The words flowed out and with all composure gone, the dam began to rebuild. Damage had been done to farmland and buildings and all that too was under construction. The point to remember was that the dam broke. Some cracks would never heal, so water still seeped through. Still pooling, still running..._

"What was the point! What could you ever even gain! NOTHING! That's right! There's nothing you can do or get from this! What could you possibly gain?"

_The dam was repaired. The water was cleared and new water beat at the dam. New water rushed at the concrete, tension and pressure growing. And the only thing left was a whisper. The eye of the storm, a dangerous thrum of energy. Ready to be released at a moment's notice. The dam held well enough against the force, but cracks still spread…_

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" Heart bursting out of her chest, she knew it was over. The moment of freedom was over, and she didn't feel any better.

The answer was not a simple one, every god wanted something. Something Reyna couldn't give. And she promised herself, in the end, one day she would stop bothering. But that day would not be today.

Silent and cold she swallowed, getting up. There was nothing to gain. That was simple enough. One thing, despite everything, was clear. The gods didn't care.

Beautiful, tired, and exhausted, a single tear rolled down her face. With her arms raised above her head she looked like a child with eyes of an old hag. Scarred and marred by the world. But at the same time vulnerable, young and small. A little girl afraid of the big bad wolf. Like the ancients before, her first priority had to be the Legion. There was no turning back now.

Rome was at war and the spear, like a stake thrust into the ground, was shown as proof.

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**A/N: please take some time to review. :)**


	2. Anterior

**A/N: As I said, updates every other week. **

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_As he begins to raise his voice_

_You lower yours and grant him one last choice_

_Drive until you lose the road_

_Or break with the ones you've followed_

_He will do one of two things_

_He will admit to everything_

_Or he'll say he's just not the same_

_And you'll begin to wonder why you came_

_The Frey~How To Save A Life_

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**MALCOLM**

**Malcolm was many** things. A strategist, a mathematician, a genius and the back up councilor for the Athena cabin. However, one thing he wasn't (but prayed to the gods he could be), was Annabeth.

He was a veteran of the Titan war. Just that fact alone gave him a lot of cred around camp. Though he doubted that the Roman demigods cared much for cred. He needed help. Every child of Athena was guaranteed to be smart, but Annabeth was the smartest. He had roughed one war surely he could bare another. The camp, however, wasn't ready for an attack. It was just the simple truth.

The message of war had been received days ago, and since that day, Malcolm had been struggling to find a solution.

Sleep clouded his eyes. It was late. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Momentarily putting down a map of New York, he shuffled across the room to Cindy's bunk.

Cindy, his half sister, always had food. She would kill if anyone ate it, but Malcolm was hungry enough to risk it. Fishing around in the box by her bed for hidden treasure, A large Snicker's bar was all he found. He unwrapped it and took a hearty bite.

Only hoping that he would be able to last with only a meager chocolate bar, he knew there would be Hades to pay in the morning. In his condition, Malcolm cared very little for the consequences. Still, he knew that there weren't enough nutrients in one bar alone. He would, at the rate he has going, have to eat something else soon. He brushed that thought aside, and with a pink sharpie he tried to draw a battle formation.

Most of the Camp was made up of rookie new recruits. Only thirty or so had survived from the Titan war. The ones who had arrived earlier could fight well and Malcolm was friends with them.

Cindy, one of the rising heros of Athena had only arrived five months previous. But the majority of those who had arrived in the last few months were still on basics. They had taken up too much valuable training time to work on the Argo II. Now they needed to prepair, to make up for lost time. To do that, they required a plan. Which translated as: The Athena kids need to plan, which had turned into: Malcolm needs to come up with a plan.

Organization was key. Crumpling up the map that he had been working on in the last few hours, he decided to start fresh. Using a green sharpie now, he pulled out a piece of printer paper from one of the many baskets around the cabin.

Camp Half Blood would prevail and beat the Romans: hard. Causing them to run home with their tail between their legs. Writing down a series of times in intervals of forty minuets down the side of the paper he bit his lip.

His handwriting was starting to slant and branch out. Carefully assigning cabins and creating a more rigorous training system that he would introduce to Chiron in the morning.

Working through all the weaknesses of the camp and trying to turn them into strengths. Envisioning himself as a brutal, hostile Roman bent on destruction (or the closest he could get: an Ares kid), he began to eagerly find faults and solve the problems. Paralleling the first time he had figured out algebra.

Solving for a and x. Now the camp was c and he needed to figure out how to eliminate r, Romans, from the equation.

That could happen in two ways. One was to join c and r, and the other to conquor r, completely whiping them out.

The likelihood of either options was a fifty city split. A ratio of 5:5.

...

Malcolm turned up bright and early (six o'clock) at the Big House. He focused on knocking with precision, despite his lack of sleep.

In a strong voice he presented his case. Biting his lips as the aged centaur looked over his notes. Chiron seemed to have physically aged in the past few weeks. the idea was impossible, but Malcolm could swear that Chiron didn't have that many graying hairs.

Looking up from the notes for the first time in thirty eight point nine seconds Chiron smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good my boy, but I'm worried how the campers will adjust."

It was a large leap. The plans detailed cutting out arts and crafts and using the area to do hand to hand combat training. Something that would normally be taught in the Arena, but if Malcolm was to follow through the Arena would be used full time for sword fighting. They would clear the beach for more archery practice. There was an urgency that nagged at Malcolm's conscience.

As a child, Malcolm had been fascinated with Rome. He knew of the sheer military power that the ancient civilization had once possessed, and he assumed that the new civilization must have followed in its footsteps. It was unknown how many numbers they would be expecting.

So once more, Malcolm stood wary and fidgeting as Chiron called all the attention to him. It was with vigor that he described the new regime and it was with groans and moans that it was received. Handing out timetables to each table, he sighed.

People grumbled, but overall they seemed to take it in without major problems. This was going to be a good day. Grabbing an apple he wandered back to his cabin. Throwing himself down into his rolling chair he slid back a few feet.

Papers stacked almost reaching the ceiling and maps and random slips ripped up and crumpled, littering the floor. Sharpies that had run out filled the trash can. This was too much for him. Holding his head in his hands, he drifted off to some much needed sleep.

...

Waking up on the floor was not a pleasant feeling. Drool formed a spiderweb from his mouth to a small pool of liquid on the ground.

"War council! Get your butt over there."

Cindy shouted into his ear, kneeling down just to scream into his ear, there was a devious smile painted on her face.

The sudden noise causing him to leap up with alarm written all over his face.

Flying to his feet, he was already out the door.

Yelling thanks while his arms pumped and he sped to the Big House.

Doors flung open, he arrived.

Katie Gardener of the Demeter cabin argued with Travis Stoll of Hermes while his brother Conner worked hard under the table Tying their shoelaces into one huge not. Will Solstice of Apollo hummed while Clovis for once sat attentive to Lou Ellen while she gave herself different animal parts.

"Nice hair Owl, I especially love your mascara." Dew Tanaka cooed.

A file in her hands, she worked on her perfect nails. She motioned to the bags under Malcolm's eyes. They were dark even he cringed when he first saw them.

No one came to his defense, and Malcolm didn't mind for once. The feeling of betrayal still stood, but the relation of hurt to her words had subsided because the girl who had intimidated him for years didn't seem so big anymore.

She wasn't and no longer was, his issue. She didn't matter because he had a plan.

Finally he had surpassed her in height, ticking one thing off his list of faults. The list being everything, all weaknesses that he couldn't fix. There was no solution, it was uncountable, like pi, his problems went on infinitely. Annabeth would have argued the side of logic, but Annabeth wasn't present, so therefore no logic was applied.

Conjuring a mirror from inside her high boots, she held it up. It was just a pocket mirror but he was forced to look. Aphrodite mirrors were like that. Making all your blemishes ten times more visible. Urging, compelling one to look.

Alas, there was his face. A pimple on his forehead. Blackheads speckling his nose, his hair left messy and unchecked. Too obvious he had been too preoccupied to run a comb through it. His appearance was haggard and tired.

But like Drew, it didn't matter. Warriors were never perfect. Socrates himself was considered one of the ugliest men of his time period. Archimedes too, couldn't have been much of a looker. He wasn't particularly proud of all his imperfections but they were a part of him.

they made him who he was and he had the face of a thinker, of a warrior and of a child of Athena. Something he wouldn't change for the world.

After the Titan War he had realized that.

Clearing his throat Chiron called attention to himself. "We are here to review the situation. Iris has granted us limited visions of the Romans. It is beyond her to interfere but there are loop holes."

With trembling hands Rachel Dare, resident artist and Host of Delphi poured water on the nacho heater.

Steam hissed. A 3D projection shone through the mist of five busses riding through the jammed highway. Painted a deep purple, it could easily been a summer camp or school bus. However the giant SPQR on the side wasn't very subtle. The Romans, Malcolm noted, didn't care much for being noticed. Almost as if they wanted them to see them looming upon them.

Rachel however, voiced his thoughts."They want us to see them. They're trying to scare us." Her voice was clear and steady and her eyes were sharp even though her hands shook.

Silence reigned as people examined their nails with a new found interest. his mouth was glued shut. He wanted to stand up. To announce his new plans but that wasn't going to happen. His knees wouldn't move and sore some reason his arms were limp at his side.

Then someone moved. She stood and did everything Malcolm wanted to do.

Trowing her sheath onto the table, Clarisse LaRue stood up.

"What about last summer? We were outnumbered a thousand to a hundred, AND WE WON!" Heaving her gleaming sword into the air, inches from the ceiling, she continued. "How are a couple hundred to what we faced before!"

There was no stopping her. Drakon Slayer, capture the flag victor, leader of the Ares Cabin, Clarisse was a force to be reckoned with. Her confidence rallied Malcolm and others too, empowering them to stand.

Lacy, so loyally intent on her perfect completion like Drew, threw her compact onto the table. With a loud bang she threw her arm up in the air. Nothing could have made the same impact then the girl who just didn't care, _care_.

She shouldn't have even been there but Piper had left Lacy as an 'advisor'. Drew had resumed her previous position as Aphrodite head but with a co-leader to 'help' shoulder the weight.

"WE ARE GREEK! It's in our BLOOD! We WILL WIN!" Spinning around to meet everyone's eyes she hefted her sword higher. "WILL YOU STAND BY ME?"

When her eyes met his he too, stood. There was everything he wanted to be and everything he was and had been. She had jarred him out from his hole. Jumping up he was prepared to introduce the new plans right away. Instead, he chanted and pumped his fist.

Whoever started it was a mystery, but clapping escalated to whistles, and then to shouts. The shouts turned into a war chant that could be heard miles away.

This war was going to happen, and they either had to take it sitting on their hands, or fighting.

And in that moment, Malcolm chose to fight.

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** A/N: Thank you for reading. Please answer this question. I will have a question every chapter to evaluate how I am doing and to get a better sense of your opinion and stance on my writing. **

**Q: Can you name any unknown or little know campers? **

**Also, If there is one thing that you would want to see, any particular scenes involving certain characters I will try to incorporate it into the story. **


	3. Dysphoria

**A/N: One of my shorter chapters. I'll get into the action soon. So far these have just been chapters to set it all up. (To eventually all tumble down.)**

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I run my life

Or is it running me

Run from my past

I run too fast

Or too slow it seems

When lies become the truth

I Run To You~Lady Antebellum

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**REYNA**

**Nothing good would or could come **from a ten hour bus ride. Enchanted: yes. Soundproof: sadly not.

Centurions laughed and drank cola, a sound Reyna could hear all too well from her designated private room.

With all the advanced technology and magic at their fingertips, one would assume the most advanced civilization in the world would have been able to install a set of sound cancelling walls. Reyna made a mental note to let the Vulcan forgers know of her request for one at their first convienience.

Charmed to expand with battle charts and land maps, the bus was built for war, but not always comfort.

Reyna felt confined. Like a dog on a leash, she was tethered to her pole. Duty and integrate being the pole, with an eight foot long chain. As always.

It was a prison, at which she kept herself trapped in under lock and key. Corroded to the corners of her mind, clinging to the pockets of sanity.

When she had accepted position of Praetor, it was under the impression that she would have a partner: someone to share the weight. That clearly hadn't happen, so she'd been forced to adjust accordingly.

Less sleep equaled being tired, but it also meant getting both shares of the paperwork done. Having only six to five hours was a small price to pay for the three extra she got awake.

Hot chocolate was her savior. Not nicotine patches or cigarettes, but good old coca. She lived on it. It was the sole eye in the hurricane of her life. She needed it constantly. Just as she needed it now.

Searching through the small nap sack she had brought along for the trip (well, more like invasion) for the glorious mix. In the dim light of her windowless room, she fruitlessly scourged the small army issue bag.

Her private quarters was the size of a large closet. A bunk bed drilled into the wall and a small closet, which was more like a locker, where the bag had previously resided.

Five shirts, six pants, four pairs of pajamas were all thrown across the cramped room. The condition of her clothes was not a current priority. The careful and clean mannerisms went out the theoretical window. No one cared if her shirt was creased on the battle field.

Tactical plans sat untouched on her desk, piling up by the dozen. Reyna was in the midst of evaluating them. The legion wanted to take down Camp Half-Blood; that was for sure.

Legion had commissioned five war buses and three cohorts: the first, third and fifth.

The Fifth cohort, despite Percy Jackson stepping into restore it's 'honor', there was still a large stigma against the rag-tag group. Reyna had fought for them, though, arguing on their behalf to plead them to the senate. She needed allies, people she knew would stand by her. Despite their shortcomings, the fifth cohort was loyal.

There were plenty of those people in _all_ of the other cohorts, but the fifth had the largest collection. Of course, Octavian's influence had breached _all_cohorts, even the unpopular ones, but that was old news.

Now, what mattered, was lives. Death knows no bounds in war, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be prevented.

With a two sided assault, the third cohort was to be attacking by boat.

Tribute to New Rome's determination to annihilate their age long enemy. Two large battle ships loaned from a Roman Legionary further down on the East Coast, racing across the Pacific. Currently cloaked under a new invention, the vessels were undetectable by magic or radar. The boats, even going at a faster rate, would take more time to circle back to America.

So far, the plan was to camp out until boats, lead by the third cohort, arrived. Anchoring in the camps docks. Using that as a distraction, the first and fifth would then attack, a full fledged war.

The second cohort was at standby in New Jersey. They had gone ahead and would act as back up. Leaving the fourth to defend New Rome.

Warming milk in the microwave, she shook the mix. She needed a distraction. Not planning, or discussing what memorial services to have for the potential fallen comrade.

Nothing though, could distract her.

People relied on her to lead them. At the moment, she needed to be at one hundred percent capacity.

Flinging open the rectangular plastic door, she retrieved her mug and dumped in the mix. Walking quickly, as she stirred in the chocolatey powder, she went to the meeting room to further plan.

There were no breaks in war. War. Where the roads of hell waited for no man. Not even she.

What would have happened if she'd been normal? Reyna didn't fantasize much and she would never trade her life for anyone else's, but the question was still valid. Would she still be taking orders at Cece's? Or with Papa and Hylla? Or Would she still be naive and docile?

Reyna hoped not.

As though her day couldn't get any worse, there was _him_. Years ago when she had first arrived, he had been her superior. Though being smaller and scrawny. It was true, and he'd been arrogant and obnoxious and annoying, but her superior all the same.

The roles had been changed but he was still the same. Taller, yet still skinner than someone his age probably should have been. He wore a belt as if to emphasize his stick-like body. Flaunting a purple stuffed bunny and his ceremonially decorated knife. Lavish jewels in dirty hands.

Facing her with those patronizing eyes and steepled long fingers, he lounged in a plastic chair. He had been waiting for her? If so, Reyna transiently hoped, once again, that he had been waiting for a while.

That was not likely the case. During the past few days, Octavian seemed to know her better than she did herself. That included day to day routines. And her habits.

She immeadiately began calculating, as she would with an opponent. Weighing her decisions and her motives to see how best to unbalance her. Not that she would ever say, but over the four years that she had known him, this adversary was finally starting to erode her defenses.

"Is there some thing you need Octavian?" Voice level, eyes ahead and clipped sentences; their conversations always started like this.

Sometimes he would shake his head as though he were thrown off by her comment. Miffed and curious, he'd tilt his head as if to motion silently that if there was anything she was keeping to herself that she should say it.

True, but unlikely. And most definitely not going to happen.

Octavian sadly opened his mouth. Removing his elbows and forearms from the table top he stood up.

"Yes there is actually," his icy eyes met hers and held them in place. "Praetor." He tacked on mockingly.

Reyna had the sudden urge to strangle him, but she didn't. "And that is..." she had trailed off for him to finish the sentence.

Standing up and pushing in his chair, he circled the table. And by circling the table, he circled her as well.

"You're go ahead." He smiled but it did nothing to ease Reyna. It had the exact opposite effect instead. "The Amellio project is ready, my people-" He cut off before continuing with a thinner, more malicious grin. "Our people, are excited to try it out. In order for the plan to be initiated, we must have the approval of the reigning Praetor."

Venturing into the unknown, Reyna knew she was falling into a verbal trap but there was just no way out. "If I decline?"

The nasty grin got larger and intensified in malice. "Well..." Pretending to think, tapping his chin he continued. "I suppose an overwhelming vote from the senate could veto your disproval. And that would be _very_ embarrassing." Octavian looped an arm around Reyna's shoulders.

Reyna stiffened, feeling like she had been struck by lightning. He seemed to extract joy from her discomfort.

"I'm sure you would be heartbroken." The words came out just as scathingly as she had hoped. "If you would excuse me, I have work to get done."

Getting up, turning on her heel, Reyna didn't look back. Leaving him standing surprised at her sudden departure. An action she had been hoping for.

At least she could do that, if nothing else.

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**A/N: Please review. I'll give you a cookie. (::)**


	4. Abecedarian

**A/N: A lot of dialogue in this chapter, makes it harder to write for me, it was never my strong point**. Word count: 2815

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_You may say I'm a dreamer_

_But I'm not the only one_

_I hope someday you'll join us_

_And the world will live as one_

_John Lennon-Imagine_

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**Malcolm**

**Something was coming**. Everyone knew it, even though no one said it.

Over the past week, Malcolm hade been in charge of _everything_. Nothing happened without his consent. No pegisi were washed and no lunch was eaten without it fitting into his new tight regime.

He knew how everything was to be organized, until she showed up. Much like when he'd banged on Chiron's door at an unholy hour, she'd done the same to the Athena cabin.

Creating a ruckus outside at three am, she simply refused to be ignored. So when someone invited her in, she jumped at the chance, fairy skirt covered in dirt. Rhinstones had come loose; she must be heartbroken.

Spreading out plans across his desk, she grimaced as one of Malcolm's protractors fell to the floor. Drawn in crayola and bordered carefully in glitter glue, Malcolm was skeptical.

Chiron had said everyone would have a say, and to being their ideas to him, but this was probably not what he meant.

"Michelle helped me decorate them." She smiled so wide, Malcolm was rendered speechless.

_These_ were the kind of people the camp had picked up over the last few years. Kids who didn't have Mr. D degrading and eating at their self confidence.

So happy composited to the kids that resided in the camp borders two years ago (wait, I thought this was all a year ago. The forty brave campers that had prevailed from raids and skirmishes.

All war hardened and affected, Lacy wasn't one of them. Malcolm would hate to see her become so. This was the girl who's highlight of day was to make the lives of others better.

Maybe that's not what she did before Piper McLean came along and nudged her out of the shadows, but it's how Malcolm had met her.

Before, Lacy was just another Aphrodite girl. Giggling and ditzy, she had no individual personality other than her type of lip gloss. Now the wallflower had bloomed, and Malcolm couldn't ever see Lacy going back.

Now she was involved, and if this was a petition to convince Chiron to buy new canoes, Malcolm would be all for it. But Lacy had never faced a monster.

Malcolm knew this for sure.

When she had come to camp with her aged sayter, she'd walked into camp without any opposition, like many of the other new recruits that had arrived after the war. So unlike himself.

At one point he had been jealous of all the safer incoming campers but that was stupid he realized now.

_How could I have ever wished that on someone?_

The last thing he wanted now was for Lacy, or anyone, to face war. The most evil monster of them all. The thing was, he was too late to shield most of the people he'd wanted to.

There was nothing stopping it now. Full spreed ahead into the belly of Hades.

So he only watched as Lacy read out her plan from a hot pink pad.

"First, I know that we're, like, training and stuff. But we should also, like, consider, this is just an idea but, maybe try peaceful negotiations?"

She said it as if he had never heard of the concept, or had somehow completely forgotten about the possibility.

"Look Lacy, we tried to reach out. We couldn't get through. No contact."

Her exasperation was showing. "Not the mist, I mean real human contact! Like, we could go meet with them under a short peace, with a white flag or something."

"A delegations party!" Malcolm wanted to hit himself over the head for not thinking of it first. "But who would want to go on one of those? Never mind lead one?"

-/-

And somehow, Malcolm found himself a day later in a white van with a hasty orange 'PEACE' scribbled legibly on the side in spray paint.

The drive was a long one, but after fifteen hours, they met at an abandoned gas station. It was late, and very little light could be seen.

Clarisse had originally been on the list to come but she had a commitment to help teach a spearing class to some of the more advanced campers while Chiron did archery. Her boyfriend Chris, son of Hermes, came along instead. If they were trapped Chris would always find them a way out.

Argus, Hera's many eyed body guard and head of Camp Half-Blood security, stayed in the van, but Chris, Lacy and, of course, himself made their way to the parked vans, which were gassing up.

_Who would have thought it? Magic busses need fossil fuel, too._

Dressed in 'Camp-Half Blood' shirts, the three walked slowly waving a white cloth stapled to a pole. It wasn't long before they caught someone's attention.

Two fully dressed Romans went into attacking stances, not relaxing as Malcolm had hoped when they waved the white flag. "What do you think Bobby?" The one to the right asked.

'Bobby' looked them over, registered Chris' non-threatening appearance, Lacy's non-appropriate footwear, and then his glaze rested on Malcolm.

Did they know he was the camp strategist? The risks he took to even be within a mile of them? One look at 'Bobby' told him no. It was his physical abilities that he was weary of. The large Roman teen looked like he could take them all on at once.

Then, Bobbly shrugged. "This could be important. Let's get them to Reyna."

He grabbed Lacy and Malcolm's shoulders and lead them away before the other gaurd stopped him. "Maybe we should take him to Octavian. You know, get on his good side before it's too late."

Bobby' eyes visibly hardened. "Reyna is the _praetor,_ isn't she?" He challenged the other guard, daring him to say otherwise.

_Leadership problems._ Malcolm almost smiled.

It was supposed to be a neutral meeting, but that didn't mean he couldn't do any subtle investigation on the side. Leadership problems would be fantastic if this meeting went south. It was a weakness, and weaknesses could almost always be exploited.

They walked on and stepped into the head van. If the outside was anything to comment on, the interior was ten time worse. There was no giant 'SPQR', but everything was some shade of purple.

It was just like how everything in the Big House was orange.

_Hubris_, he thought to himself as they were seated on a hard bench. Bobby kept watch, and before the other guard left to get their leader, a tall boy stepped out."Our praetor is sleeping. Allow her to rest."

With those words, he placated the anxious guard. But the boy wasn't done. "Please, return to you're bunks. I will deal with the situation."

Bobby opened his mouth to complain, but the boy was too fast. "I will wake Preator Reyna, but she is tired and insisted not to be disturbed." looking the muscular guard in the eye he continued. "However,if _you_ would like to be the one to wake her from her one good sleep _in weeks,_ please: be my guest."

An open-handed gesture was made, but Bobby didn't move forward. Instead, he summoned his companion, and they walked out the door.

And then there were four.

If Jason's word was _anything_ to go by, this boy was not Reyna. Malcolm wasn't even sure what this boy had in mind. Would hehear them out, or boot them out?

"Octavian the third, Augur of New Rome." He introduced. "May I help you?" He asked in a way that Malcolm knew there was only one option. He knew why they were here, and for some reason, it amused him. The question was just a formality.

A truce was nessasary, though. Unity against Gaea was the most strategic option.

"We have come as representatives of Camp-Half Blood." Lacy took over, steering Octavian's attentions to her. "We offer a truce."

There was a twitch in Octavian's lip. A look Malcolm recognized well. This boy was stopping himself from smiling, as if their proposition wasn't a plan to save lives, but something undeniably foolish. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Lacy seemed to swallow back some snappy comment before she replied. "Then, please, direct us to someone who can."

Then he smiled for real. A small, thin-lipped flash of teeth that told Malcolm the this wasn't going anywhere.

"Well, you see, you attacked us first. We are only retaliating."

He said it like some obvious truth. Set in his ways. But Lacy wasn't going to give up.

Malcolm wanted to add something, to help Lacy convince the sickly boy but he just sat still. "Then be the bigger person and retreat!" Lacy reasoned.

That's when the skinny boy's eyes flashed. Malcolm mentally groaned.

"So we shall 'retreat' and twiddle our thumbs and hope for the best as we rebuild out demolished city?" Octavian seethed, keeping his voice low despite Lacy's high pitched yell. "I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down. People are _sleeping_."

Malcolm's mind reeled. He only heard one thing come out of Octavian's mouth. _People were sleeping_. People meaning a superior, one that Octavian didn't want to wake. And thus someone who could actually help them.

"We are in no position to turn back." He continued, but Octavian no longer had the upper hand. Malcolm was no longer in the dark.

He knew exactly what was happening, and just how to solve it.

The growth factor was common, and could escalate, and that was what Malcolm planned to do. Everything fell into place.

So, to put it simply: Malcolm started to yell.

Someone else was in the dark, and it was time to shine the light. "SO WHERES THE PRAETOR?"

Octavian quickly scanned the room, growing wider.

"WE CAME ALL THE WAY FROM NEW YORK TO TALK."

Lacy, alarmed, looked to Malcolm. It was clear what she wanted to say: _what are you doing?!_

Chris too, looked shocked.

Granted, Malcolm must have looked, at best, insane. His answer came in the form of a tired girl, snuggled up in a fleece blanket covered in 'SPQR's. "Who are they, Octavian?" she demanded, even though Malcolm was _sure_ she had heard them.

Octavian, to his credit, didn't back down. "They are Gracus seeking our retreat. I was just about to send them on their way."

When she tuned to him, Malcolm was faced with the full power of her onyx eyes. Deep and dark, Malcolm was momentarily stunned. She was beautiful, and probably more so without the dark shadows under her eyes. "Is this true?"

"Yes."

And then the pressure was off him, focused on boring a hole through Octavian.

"Then I shall speak to you myself. Octavian, please take inventory if you cannot sleep." she directed. With a hint of a smile, Octavian exited.

"Of course, praetor." He added 'praetor' as though it was an afterthought.

Chris spoke when Octavian was gone. He seemed to straighten and asked, "So can you help us?"

He sounded hopeful,and Malcolm was too. Octavian wouldn't, so maybe to counter with reverse phycology, Reyna could say yes.

Lacy must have been thinking the same thing because she spoke next. "Octavian said it wasn't possible but it is. Peace can always happen."

At these words Reyna sunk into a hard chair across from them. Sighing, she said the one thing that Malcolm didn't want to hear. "Octavian is right. The senate is in full approval; it's out of my hands."

"Can't you do anything?" Lacy pleaded.

"Stall them!" Malcolm lit up. If the Romans couldn't be prevented, they could at least be delayed.

Offering up her hands, Reyna looked worse then she did when she first walked in. There was a new glare trained on him though.

"Do you mean for me to sabotage my own troops?" Reyna challenged, facing them head on.

_A trick question._

If they answered yes, Reyna would take offense, and throw them out. But by saying no, she would find the idea obsurd. Then she wouldn't think back on it as a solution.

It was time to deflect.

"Do you mean to rage unprovoked war?" Malcolm countered.

The girl in front of him almost blew up. He could see theoretical stem shooting out of her ears.

"Unprovoked! That's utter nonsense!" She shouted, and for once, Malcolm thought she was yelling more at the world then him.

"Well, we as a camp didn't fire on your city. The guy who didn't even have control of his body when he did it!"

Reyna waved her hand as to fan off any of his explanations. "It happened, and he was yours. Your 'camper' lost control and recklessly fired into a building full of civilians."

"He didn't mean anything by it!" Malcolm was getting no where. This girl had to let of of her shallow one-sided thoughts.

"He attacked our camp augur, he's wanted in new Rome as a terrorist."

The one thing she wasn't doing was looking at the bigger picture. All that didn't matter but for Leo's ask he continued on the dead-end conversation. "Leo is not a terrorist." Malcolm stated firmly. "He regrets it too, even though it's not his fault."

"It most diffidently is his fault! He should be sorry!" Reyna stood.

Malcolm matched her. "All we want is to avoid war."

She scoffed, rolled her eyes and looked him full in the face. "So do I, but we don't always get what we want, but don't you think I'm not trying to stop it."

"So prove that you mean what you say!" Lacy chimed in. "You have the power! Convince them and the senate!"

Lacy sounded so optimistic even Reyna seemed to melt a bit. Lacy's seemingly out of reach innocence, that Malcolm knew he was never going to regain, had the same melancholy affect on Reyna.

The girl was a warrior who knew what she was. And knew who she had once been. Form the looks of Reyna, and the ones she gave Lacy, Malcolm assumed she had once been the same as the younger blonde.

Like Malcolm, she probably wished to be the same innocence and naivety yet, couldn't let experiences and the present go.

Sitting back down, Reyna adjusted her posture. Already perfect, the rim rod straight back was further Straightened, if that was even possible. She glanced at him then at Lacy and finally at Chris. "Explain your proposition again."

"Does your party mean to not even _meet_ with us before the fight? Not even to sign a mutual declaration of war?"

Malcolm was sure the Romans had already gone ahead and created (and signed) their own, but Reyna puckered her lips as though to consider the offer.

"It would be an chance for possible agreed war. And a less messy break when his is all over." Drawing out the words, Reyna gave him a _look_. They would do it. A silent agreement was made, peace would befall, they would ensure it.

"Yes," Malcolm continued. "We can agree on some terms as well. It would make a victory much more honorable and the loosing side would have already agreed to the terms."

"Unless, of course," Reyna prodded, "That a possible peace treaty would have been drawn out and was presented to the two parties."

There was a small smile as she sent them out back to their bus.

Malcolm left with a small sense of accomplishment. Not nearly enough to build up his courage, but all the same.

She was willing for peace, Malcolm was sure of it. If only the rest could.

-/-

Driving through the night, they reached camp before the sun broke. Malcolm had a treaty, and if worst came to worst, declaration to adjust and draw out.

The Romans would arrive tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: ****BIG question. Should I diverge from cannon or not? Either way it won't be completely cannon because of BoO coming next October. (Haha, Blood of Olympus' acronym is Boo)**

**[also a poll on my profile page] Question of the chapter: What's your ideal chapter length? (1000? 1500? 2000? 2500? 3000? 4000 and up?)**

**I personally like longer chapters. **


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